


Obsessed

by TortillaGuy



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker is a Mess, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-26 01:40:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19757986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TortillaGuy/pseuds/TortillaGuy
Summary: Peter picks a fight he wasn't prepared for while on vacation, and Tony doesn't even have time to talk him out of it before Peter escapes his hospital room to finish the fight.





	1. Chapter 1

“FRIDAY, boost volume twenty percent,” Tony said, eyes focused on the circuits littering his workbench. He barely heard it as an Aerosmith song became audible in the background. What had started as boredom-driven tinkering session had turned into something akin to a eureka moment. An unexpected breakthrough had been holding his focus for the past three hours, and if he just managed to… yes, make that resistor stay put… no time for a soldering iron, just tape those wires together… that cell won’t work for this, where’s that twelve volt? There it is… okay, now for that multimeter, gotta make sure this works… c’mon… there it is! Finally! The future of Stark Industries!  
Tony held his revolutionary invention, currently a mass of loosely connected wires and electrical tape, in his proud hands.   
“FRIDAY, call Pepper,” he said, unable to take his eyes off his invention and remove the ecstatic grin from his face. He was on cloud nine, and completely forgot Pepper was in Thailand on business.  
“Ms. Potts is currently in a meeting. Would you like to leave a message?”   
Tony looked up, turning his project over to give it ventilation.  
“Oh, that’s right. No, just call… Peter. Call Peter. He’d wanna hear about this.” Tony was dying to talk to someone, not someone’s answering machine.  
“Calling Peter Parker.”  
Tony rubbed a scratch on his creation’s housing. All it needed was a better fan, a smaller CPU… this thing could be in production by next month.  
When FRIDAY didn’t speak again after thirty seconds, Tony realized that it was probably very early in the morning. Tony scratched his head.  
“Scratch that, FRI. I doubt Peter’s actually sleeping, but if he is, no point in waking him up. Call Steve--”  
“Just a moment, boss,” FRIDAY said, cutting Tony off. Tony set his invention down.  
“What do you mean, FRI? I know Steve’s not optimal, but at least--”  
“A moment, boss,” FRIDAY said. Tony rolled his eyes. One of his own AIs was giving him lip.   
“I’ll have to do better with you,” he said, turning one of his invention’s wires over. Tony waited, propped up on his elbows, for about a minute.  
“I give up. What’s going on, FRI? What are you doing? Don’t make me reboot you.” It was an empty threat, but she didn’t need to know that.  
“I’m gathering intel on Mr. Parker, boss,” she said.  
“Why? He’s a nerd and probably not sleeping right now. What more do you need to know?” Tony said absently, inspecting a frayed wire he hadn’t noticed before. He picked it up and looked closer.  
“When I attempted to call him, the call did not go through. It was not because he did not pick up or that his cell phone was turned off, but rather that it not exist anymore. I believe it was destroyed. Next, I attempted to contact his suit, and found that it is in use, but badly damaged. I also found that his vitals are slipping, boss.”  
Tony dropped his invention. It hit the ground with a crack and exploded into plastic splinters and loose batteries. His eyes widened but saw nothing but nightmare images of Peter, limp and bleeding, crushed on the floor.   
“Boss? You don’t appear to be breathing.”  
“Location, FRI,” Tony said, voice shallow and choked.  
“Of course, boss.”  
Tony’s suit took shape around him as he ran to the roof. He took off and shot through the air. He tried to brace himself for the sight of his kid busted up and torn. He veered off towards Peter’s apartment, nearly there when FRIDAY broke in.  
“That’s not the way, boss,” she said. Tony cursed himself. He forgot to check the location.   
“What’s the way, then, FRIDAY?” he asked, jaw clenched.   
“I don’t think you’ll want to get there in your suit,” she said. Tony’s fists were shut like vises.  
“Enough riddles, FRI! Tell me where he is!”  
“Of course, boss.” Tony got the coordinates. His flight swayed.  
“What? Why the hell is he in Maine?” His head spun.  
“A vacation, I believe. At least, that’s what he told you last week.” Tony stared at the ground. His eye twitched. He lowered himself onto a rooftop.   
“FRI, vital report,” he murmured.  
“Peter’s vitals have stabilized, boss, but I believe it is due to medical intervention,” FRIDAY said, just as quietly.  
“Call May.”

~~~

Tony wondered if the clock company had created this particular model with the sole intention of infuriating everyone who was around it. For starters, it had a pale blue rim reminiscent of retirement homes full of senior citizens without families who cared enough to visit, or maybe it was the sad blue of a children’s cancer research hospital, or it might have been the confusingly depressing blue of the bedroom of an old home overlooking a meadow, where all you can think about is how its best days are behind it and that meadow will one day be a parking lot. Once you moved past how that particular color blue was such a bad idea the designer should have been shot in an old house overlooking a meadow, then moved into a children’s hospital, and finally dumped in a retirement home, then the ticking got to you. The clock had a soft, pleasant ticking like a cement truck has a soft, pleasant feel when it runs over you. Tony tapped his foot aggressively to drown out the sound, but it was if the clock company had taken the prerogative of installing the motor in his brain. He gave up and paced around the hospital waiting room, which was painted a light green but was an equally depressing shade as the clock. May glanced up at him, then returned her empty gaze to her lap. Tony paced across the room, stayed put as if he was calculating something, then shook his head and paced to the other side of the room.  
“I don’t get it, May,” he said, voice tense. “He just… went for the guy? When he saw him attack the woman?”  
“You know Peter,” she said quietly. “Always so... stupidly selfless. I don’t know what he was thinking, but he didn’t even have time to… what is it? Form the suit? Peter just rushed the man, and then he was on the ground, and then I don’t know.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I just don’t know, Tony.”  
Tony sunk into a seat beside her.  
“He’ll be okay. The kid’s tough.” His voice choked like he didn’t entirely believe what he was saying.  
“How do you know?” May asked, tears running down her face, smearing her mascara. “The doctor hasn’t even come out yet to talk to us! That can’t be a good sign, Tony!” She dropped her head into her hands. Tony barely had time to set his hand on her back when the doctor approached them. Her face was etched with old tired lines, newly turned up into concern. She tapped her fingers against her clipboard.  
“I’m not entirely sure how to say this, but Peter is… missing?” She adjusted her glasses, showing her bewildered face.  
“I’m sorry, what?” May asked, voice slow and quiet, eyes locked on the doctor.  
“He is, uh, not in his bed. With his injuries, I’m honestly not sure of how he could have left, especially unnoticed, but--”  
Tony shot up and bolted for Peter’s room.

To be continued~


	2. Chapter 2

Tony’s pulse drowned the busy hospital atmosphere into silence as he tore apart the bed, ripped the dusty cushion off the sill, and stood with his hands pulling his hair as he scoured the room with bewildered eyes, not really seeing anything but nightmare images of the trouble Peter could have found himself in by making a stupid, stupid decision. He collapsed onto the window sill, flashes of mangled limbs and torn flesh taking his mind from him. May rushed in and knew Peter was nowhere in the room as soon as she caught sight of Tony’s face. She pulled her arms in close, looking tiny in her oversized cardigan, and a small whimper came over her.  
“I don’t… where could he have gone?” she asked, presumably Tony, but her eyes seemed to be seeing something else entirely. Tony blinked and looked up.  
“I have no idea. He’s a teenager with superpowers and, I guess, now a score to settle. I’m sure the kid went after the guy he couldn't stop, but God knows where--look, I’ll go after him. If the suit wasn’t damaged too badly for him to use it now, then the tracker probably still works. I’ve just gotta activate it and I can yank him off the ground where he stands.” May nodded, eyes still hopelessly searching for something that she couldn’t seem to find. Tony left the room and took the elevator up to the rooftop, and summoned his suit. He cleared his throat.  
“FRIDAY, I need Peter’s location right now so I can save his life and then kill him.” He peered off the roof, praying to catch a glimpse of an idiot dressed in a red suit, while FRIDAY gathered the info.  
“I’m sorry boss, but I can’t supply Mr. Parker’s location,” she said. Tony stopped looking and stopped dead. He spoke low and slowly.  
“And just why not, FRIDAY?”  
“Mr. Parker is not in his suit.”   
Tony’s gut wrenched. He nearly threw up. Not only did Peter put in a euthanasia request by running off while injured, but he didn’t even have the sense to put on his damn suit to have even a shred of protection while he handed his life to some random criminal. Tony slumped down with a vent shaft to support him. He cradled his head in his hands, eyes wide and taking in the roof. He shook his head.  
“I’ll just have to find him myself,” he mumbled. He got to his feet and took off.

~~~

Peter limped into the alleyway and peered out, surveying for threats. He hobbled behind a dumpster and panted, regretting every decision he had made in the past seven minutes. He had no suit, but was lucky enough to spot his hoodie and jeans by his bedside, so at least he wasn’t looking like a pale, weak kid thirty minutes after surgery; he was looking like a pale, weak kid that only appeared to be thirty minutes out of surgery if you looked close enough. Peter winced at the memory of pulling his jeans over his freshly sutured wounds, and sure enough, there was a dark blotch spreading on his calf. Not for the first time since jumping from the hospital window to the small ledge below (much to the chagrin of his broken ankle) he was doubting his ability to survive even for a few minutes outside in his state. Peter sighed and leaned against the brick wall, irritating his bruised back. When he had the suit, and when he was positive he wasn’t dying, urban areas had never been intimidating, let alone terrifying to the point where he didn’t want to move. Now everyone seemed like a threat, every little noise set off alarms in his already pounding skull, and every foot he moved away from the hospital invited hundreds of new fears. He tried to take deep breaths, but anything other than a shallow gasp made his lungs burn and his ribs ache. Peter tried to focus his raging mind by recalling the memory of the woman.   
Her face had been bruised by the man and her shoulder dislocated. Her face held all the fear of a caged animal that couldn’t figure out why it was being abused. She had tried to raise her good arm to defend herself, but the man had taken it and twisted it, ripping her sleeve in the process. Peter hadn’t even thought. He didn’t wait for his suit to form as he charged the man, knocking him off balance. He shook it off and he caught sight of Peter. He seemed confused for all of one second before he pummeled him. Then man knew exactly where to hit. Two hits to the shoulder dislocated it, throwing him the ground tore his wrist open, a barrage just under his rib cage left him unable to breathe, and once Peter had managed to flip around to protect his stomach, the man kicked mercilessly at the base of his spine in a nearly successful attempt to paralyze him. The man snapped the teen’s ankle and finished with a clean kick to the head. Peter managed to get one punch in before it all went black.  
Peter shuddered at the memory, but focused on the thought of the woman’s face. He needed to avenge her. Since when does Spiderman stand idly by when low-lifes are out there, running free? Peter nodded to himself. He knew what he needed to do. Now, if he could just coax himself up…

~~~

Tony flew over the city, surveying for… what, exactly? He had no idea what Peter was wearing, but assumed he wasn’t stupid enough to run around in a hospital gown. He had no clue where he was, or… Tony swallowed a lump in his throat. He had no clue who he could be with. After two more infuriatingly fruitless minutes, he decided it would be easier to search on foot. Tony touched down, attracting many open-mouthed stares and photo requests, but he pushed past everyone, peering down every alley and corridor, and occasionally stopping to describe Peter to a passerby. He asked a young couple if either had seen the teen, and was about to hastily walk away when he received a negative, but stopped dead when an old man that had trailing behind the couple called to him.   
“I think I’ve seen your boy,” he said. “Looked pretty bad, too. You let him go out in that condition?” This remark made Tony pause for an instant, but he shook it off.  
“Where is he? Where did you see him?”  
“He basically fell into an alley a little way back. But--” he stepped in front of Tony. “I’m wondering if I should call child protective services instead.” Tony rolled his eyes and pushed past him, sprinting away.

To be continued~


	3. Chapter 3

Tony felt numb as he ducked into every alley, tore trash cans from the ground, and screamed Peter’s name. Peter still sat one alley further away, but Tony’s shouts made him shoot up, much to the displeasure of his back.   
Shit, Peter thought, shifting to his feet as quickly as possible, making him double over and grab the dumpster for support. Tony’s gonna be pissed. He won’t get it. I’ve gotta go now, he thought. He stumbled out of the alley and limped down the sidewalk, no clear plan in mind. His brain was fogging up with every staggered step, and his legs got closer to giving out with every extended second. His torn stitches were letting blood soak into his shoe, making soggy red footprints. All the sudden, his twisted ankle decided to stop contributing to his escape plan and gave out. Peter carried the leg like dead weight, adrenaline becoming the only thing keeping him going. His body had no energy left to give, and his injuries became shackles tied to the pavement. Deep in his swirling, mixed, oxygen-denied brain, a realization twinged. He had no idea where that guy was, or even if he was arrested after he passed out… what was he doing? Peter gasped as the sidewalk came up to meet him, no, wait… he fell down to meet the sidewalk. Wait, which way is the sky? Up, right? Then why is it down there…? Where am I?   
Peter didn’t know when he shut his eyes, but he noticed he couldn’t see anything when someone set a hand on his back, causing a soft wince. The hand was taken away as urgently as it was placed, and Peter suddenly found the sky as he was flipped around and picked up, eliciting a new series of groans that weren’t acknowledged as he was lifted upwards.

~~~

Tony had stopped shouting moments earlier and settled for a list of muttered curses as he spotted Peter through the crowd that had gathered around his unconscious body. He roughly pushed through them and froze. Peter’s condition was even worse than he’d imagined. How was that even possible? Tony’s eyes traced his kid’s twisted limbs, the torn flesh visible through the gaps in his hastily pulled on clothes. Red, blistered scabs lined his arms, bruised, pale skin swallowed his back, a river of blood ran down his jeans. Tony knelt down by Peter’s side, hands shaking, eyes pleading and vying for a rise and fall in his chest. He set a hand down on his back, searching for one, unable to act otherwise. Peter’s soft groan made him pull back. For the first time, Tony looked up at the crowd gathered around. Some were standing, open-mouthed, others were taking videos. He rolled his eyes and picked Peter up, wincing whenever the kid groaned. He didn’t step away from the crowd before taking off.

~~~

When Peter opened his eyes and took in the lights, he thought he was dead. He was far too comfortable and far too… not dying to still be alive. When he sat up and felt an axe split his midsection, however, he knew himself to be living. He moaned and leaned back, trying to sort out frazzled memories of the past few hours.  
“Kid,” Tony said. Peter jumped, clutched his stomach, and moaned again.  
“Sorry,” Tony said, helping him back down. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Speaking of scaring people, what the hell, Peter?”  
Peter huffed and stared at the ceiling for a moment before answering.  
“I… I don’t know, Mister Stark. I can’t explain it. It’s like, I needed to get that guy, y’know? Or… or I failed. I already failed the lady. I couldn’t fail twice, or what would Spiderman be? A joke? If I can’t even stop a mugger, then what’s next? I fail to give an old lady directions and send her to Wyoming instead of Times Square? Instead of getting a cat out of a tree, I drop it fifteen stories off a high rise? What’s next, Mister Stark?” There were tears in his eyes. Tony’s heart clenched. He sighed and leaned in closer, grasping Peter’s arm gently.  
“Kid, nothing like that is going to happen. Sometimes you have bad days and you get your ass handed to you. That doesn't mean your future is falling apart and you’re no longer the person you thought you were. Everyone bites off more than they can chew every once in a while, but you’ve just gotta brush it off and learn from your mistakes, not crawl out of a window and nearly get yourself killed twice in one day. So many people depend on you, kid, and if you lose your mind trying to win every single battle, then you’ll wind up letting them down. It’s okay, Peter. You’re gonna get your ass kicked more than a couple times in your life, and when it happens, you’ve got to let yourself rest so the next ass-kicking won’t kill you. Understand what I’m trying to say?” Tony stared down at Peter warily.  
Peter nodded, then stared at his lap, looking defeated.  
“I understand, Tony. I’m sorry I ran off like that. I know it was stupid, and I’ll try not to do it again.”  
“I’m sorry, you’ll try not to do it again?”  
Peter looked up and shrugged. Tony laughed. He leaned back in his chair.  
“Well, it’s a start.”


End file.
